Routine
by shadow243ali
Summary: He doesn't expect to find himself in her room. It's not the first time he's went in there and, despite how much he tells himself, he knows it won't be the last time either... Oneshot, Rose/ten implied.


**AN: I wrote this a few weeks back when I was strangely enough writing about sleeping or bedrooms and stuff in some of the chapters of my other stories and I also wrote this. I think my sleep deprived mind was trying to tell me to go to bed, but what do I go and do? Oh, you know it. I write. Well, enough about that...on with the story!**

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He doesn't expect to find himself in her room. It's not the first time he's went in there and, despite how much he tells himself, he knows it won't be the last time either. It's a routine he hasn't gotten use to, even though it has become one of the few regular things now in his life.

She's asleep, peacefully he thinks. She hasn't been made aware of his prescience, but she hadn't any of the other times when he wandered in here and he smiles a little to himself at the thought.

He doesn't think she would really mind if she woke up and found him there. She'd probably chuck a pillow at him because if she woke up, he knows he wouldn't be able to stop a grin on his face. He'd make an excuse about him being there and she'd smile, the one with the teeth between the tongue, before she'd go back to sleep.

At least that's how he imagines it would go.

He comes to her room more often these days. He doesn't know why. He could be tinkering with the Tardis, fusing wires or sonicing up screwdrivers and he'd suddenly find himself thinking of her, wondering if she's safe. He knows nothing can get in to the Tardis, but he can't get the image of her being torn away from him out of his mind.

Maybe that's it. The fear that one day he'll walk in and find her once again gone. She walked through universes to get back to him and he fears that it would end up being a concoction of his imagination and hope. He wants her to be real, he needs the reassurance that she's back in his life so maybe that's why he walks into her room. Maybe that's why he finds himself quietly watching her sleep.

He needs her. He wants her. He doesn't think he can bear losing her again. He knows this to be true, he also knows that he'll come in here every night until he's sure she won't disappear, but he's not sure if he'll ever get rid of that feeling so maybe he'll never stop. At least he probably won't until one day she wakes up and finds him. Then he might stop.

He's sure that day won't come soon though. At least he hopes.

--

He was sure the day where he wouldn't find comfort in watching her sleep would come. In fact every time he quietly slipped out of her room before she awoke, he promised himself that he wouldn't do it again. He expected that with his Time Lord brilliance, he might be able to stop himself from taking a step from the hallway into her room.

Anyone would think it would be easy not to open a simple door. Anyone might be able to stop themselves from heading inside. Hell, anyone might think he could be content with a simple glance at the sleeping blonde, but he isn't.

He is weak willed and afraid. He knows it, but he'll never admit to anyone. He's too caught up in Time Lord pride. As the last of his race, he does have standards to uphold so he can't admit the slight obsession he has with a certain companion to anyone, not that there is many people he could talk to. In fact the only person in the Tardis, other than himself, is her and he has no intention of admitting he has taken up the slightly stalker-like hobby of watching her while she sleeps.

It would definitely be too embarrassing. And there would be questions and awkwardness and talking about feelings and he can't handle all that. It's too much. Too weird to talk about. He's just got her back in his life and he's not planning to make her leave by bringing all that up.

No, he'll keep it to himself. Lock it all away in his mind and never acknowledge it to anyone other than himself. He'll think up ways to stop himself, but will only end up failing miserably. He should be more disappointed at failure, but in a way he pleased that he gets to watch over her again. She comforts him even when she doesn't realise she's doing it. Technically she's not even conscious to know if she was able to know if she's doing it or not.

Maybe that's a good thing.

--

He can't help but notice how peaceful she looks. He watches as her chest rises and falls rhythmically with the deep breaths of sleep. It's the only sound made from her. It fills the room, creating a quiet duo with his own and he leans back into his chair contented by the simpleness of it.

It's quiet, but he doesn't mind being left alone with his thoughts. At least not when he's in her room. No, his thoughts aren't troubled with worries or fear or sadness. He doesn't acknowledge the loss he has felt or the fears of the future.

When he's with her, he is simply content. At least he is when her eyes aren't open and staring straight at him with some form of curiosity in them. Exactly like she's doing now.

He sits up straighter, a smile gracefully sliding onto his features. It's second nature to him, but he knows he should just get up and leave before she starts asking questions, but he doesn't.

"Doctor?" Her eyes might be staring at him as if they are fully awake but he realises that her mind is still slowly drudging itself out of its semi-conscious state.

"Yeah, it's me." He confirms in a whisper, "It's just me."

She stifles a yawn, but fails miserably which only causes his smile to widen just a little bit more. She reaches her hand out lazily to him. It lands on the hand resting on his knee and he suddenly finds his gaze drifting between her hand and her eyes which once again look like they are on the verge of sleep once more.

She's tired, he should leave. He fully intends to leave her to sleep until she murmurs the words that stop him, "You alright?"

This isn't how it goes. She isn't meant to be concerned about him. She should be questioning his prescience in her room, but she isn't. She probably will once she's awake and cognitive, but the first question on her tired mind is about his welfare. Despite it all, he can't ignore how very Rose-ish that is of her. Always caring about others.

He realises he hasn't answered her and his mouth is on the verge of automatically saying, 'I'm always alright'. Just like he always responds. She wouldn't question it even if she was fully awake, but instead of saying those words he finds himself whispering, "No..."

"Do you want to talk about it?" He shakes his head negatively. He isn't even sure why he isn't fine so putting it into words for her would be too much effort. He watches her studying him, before she gently pulls at his hand, mumbling, "Come on then."

His face scrunches up in confusion, "What?"

"If your gonna sleep then you might as well sleep up here on a bed. That's what they are there for. I don't want you hurting your back sitting on that chair."

"It's fine. I'll just leave." He replies, nodding towards the door.

"You came in here. You said so yourself that you're not fine and I'm not leaving you alone with your thoughts. The universe could explode or something." He smiles at her response, "So up you get. It's a big bed. There's room. Don't worry, I don't bite."

She yawns again as he climbs in beside her and suddenly he's yawning too. He's tired of thinking. Tired of analysing. Tired of worrying. He wraps his arms around Rose and listens as she falls back into her slumber. And despite it all, he just wants to close his eyes too and sleep.

So he does.

--

It's strange the new routine he's gotten himself into. He'll find himself tinkering with the Tardis or eating a banana or reading a book and he'll look at the empty room he's in. It unnerves him, depresses him, and he hates it so he gets up and walks to her room.

He'll promise himself that the next time he won't go, even though he doesn't believe the declaration he makes to himself. He knows it isn't true. It probably will never be.

So he heads inside and she's asleep as usual. But instead of sitting by her bed and watching her sleep, he finds himself climbing under the covers.

She stirs. She always stirs, but never questions and he's grateful for that. She just turns slightly, curling up to him and he finds himself wanting to sleep. He doesn't need to, but he does.

He would laugh at how human he is becoming, but he doesn't care. Rose isn't going to point that out to him and there's no else who would. He doesn't mind, not really.

He's beginning to like this new routine anyway.

The End

**AN: Review if you enjoyed...**


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